Chapter 21: Shunda Logistics

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A-Sheng pinched the stack to gauge its thickness and accepted it with satisfaction.

“Nothing to it. So, what do you need me to do?”

Chen Bingwen leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. “Brother Sheng, I mentioned last time that I had an idea that would be more sustainable and reliable than collecting protection money.

“Now the time is right.”

A-Sheng raised an eyebrow and blew out a ring of smoke. “Oh? Let’s hear it.”

“My dessert business is about to expand. Twenty mobile locations in Kowloon’s industrial districts, five standard shops in commercial areas, and a second central kitchen in Kwun Tong.”

Chen Bingwen spoke neither quickly nor slowly, but every word was clear and forceful. “With so many locations, we’ll need to deliver large quantities of dessert buckets, ingredients, utensils, and even the day’s takings every day.

“Relying on my own people would be inefficient, risky, and uneconomical.”

A sharpness entered A-Sheng’s eyes. He knew that whatever Chen Bingwen said next would be substantial. “What do you have in mind?”

“I want to establish a dedicated delivery fleet.” Chen Bingwen fixed his gaze on A-Sheng. “Your men know every street and alley in Kowloon and Hong Kong. They know the people and they know the ground. There’s no one better suited for this delivery work.

“We’ll buy a few secondhand light trucks and retrofit them with insulated cargo compartments.

“The men can divide the routes by district, delivering goods from the central kitchen to each location at fixed times every day, then bringing back the day’s earnings. It’ll be organized, efficient, and secure.”

A-Sheng fell silent for several seconds. Ash flickered against the edge of the ashtray.

“Delivery? You want my men to do manual labor?”

“It’s logistics, Brother Sheng,” Chen Bingwen corrected him. “Not manual labor. It’s a legitimate business.

“I’ll pay the men according to delivery volume and route, with a base salary plus commission. If they do well, their income definitely won’t be lower than what they make collecting protection money—and they won’t have to live in fear or curry favor with the police.

“More importantly, this is a long-term, clean business. You can give your men respectable jobs, start a company, and become business owners. Isn’t that better than being street thugs?”

He paused before raising a crucial point. “Besides, this fleet won’t serve only Chen’s Dessert Shop. Once we’ve perfected the system and built up a reputation, how many cha chaan tengs, snack shops, and convenience stores across Kowloon and Hong Kong will need short-distance cold-chain delivery?

“When that time comes, Brother Sheng, your logistics company will only grow bigger and bigger. That’s the real money-printing machine.”

After what had happened with Rotten-Tooth Keung, Chen Bingwen understood that in this era, it was virtually impossible to do business with ordinary citizens without going through the triads.

As his commercial plans expanded and the number of shops and sales points increased, dealing with the triads would inevitably become unavoidable.

Rather than remain on the defensive and be obstructed at every turn, it was better to proactively transform one of those forces into a controllable partner and incorporate it into his commercial empire.

A-Sheng was loyal, respected, and deeply rooted in Sham Shui Po. He was the ideal candidate.

This move would not only solve the urgent problems of delivery and cash security, but also lay down a crucial protective barrier for future expansion.

“A logistics... company?” A-Sheng repeated the phrase, a complicated glimmer passing through his eyes.

Life in a triad meant licking blood from the edge of a knife, never knowing whether one would survive from one day to the next.

Leading his men into legitimate business, starting a company, becoming a boss?

It was a path he had secretly longed for deep within his heart, yet had never dared to seriously consider.

But the picture Chen Bingwen painted—especially the words “long-term,” “clean,” and “business owner”—struck his heart like the tap of a little hammer.

He thought of Uncle Fu’s stooped back and worried eyes.

He thought of the wails of his men’s families whenever one of them was injured, and of the terror that seized him whenever the police raided their territory.

“How would the partnership work?” A-Sheng finally asked, his voice low and carrying an unprecedented gravity.

Chen Bingwen lifted his teacup. “I can advance part of the fleet’s startup capital. I’ll handle the vehicles, the retrofitting, and the initial operating costs. You’ll be responsible for gathering reliable men, establishing the rules, and managing the fleet.

“As for the shares, I’ll take fifty-one percent and you’ll take thirty-nine. The remaining ten percent will be set aside as an option pool to reward outstanding district managers in the future and motivate the team.”

“An option pool?” A-Sheng looked puzzled by the unfamiliar term.

“It means shares set aside for brothers who make a contribution,” Chen Bingwen explained simply. “That way, everyone will truly regard the company as their own enterprise. The better they perform, the more they’ll receive.”

A-Sheng was delighted. “That’s good. Then the brothers will really put their backs into it!”

Before A-Sheng could say anything else, Chen Bingwen continued, “The company will be called Shunda Logistics. What do you think? Smooth sailing, and every delivery fulfilled!”

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“Good!”

A-Sheng slammed his palm onto the table, startling the customers at several other tables in the icehouse.

He stubbed out his cigarette and stared fervently at Chen Bingwen. “A-Wen, you’ve got courage and brains! I’m in on this Shunda Logistics with you. Tomorrow I’ll start looking for people and bring over the most dependable brothers!”

A huge weight lifted from Chen Bingwen’s heart, and a sincere smile appeared on his face. “Brother Sheng, I knew you’d be straightforward! We’ll discuss the details once the men are in place.”

“Wait for my word!”

After seeing A-Sheng off, his stride carrying a hint of swagger, Chen Bingwen let out a long breath.

Solving the logistics problem and the potential trouble from local toughs had removed a major hidden danger from his commercial plans—and won him an ally.

Next came the full-force advancement of his expansion plans, and... that even more important matter.

Wing Lung Bank, Kowloon Branch.

“Mr. Chen! Please, sit down! Congratulations! The Oriental Daily has even dubbed you the Dessert King!”

Manager Zhou Mingzhe personally stood up to make coffee, his voice full of admiration. “This achievement is ten times more impressive than I expected!”

Chen Bingwen smiled modestly. “You flatter me, Manager Zhou. I was lucky, and the neighborhood residents were kind enough to support me.”

“Luck only favors those who are prepared.”

Zhou Mingzhe set the coffee before Chen Bingwen, his eyes filled with appreciation. “So, tell me. How much do you need this time?”

Zhou Mingzhe clearly knew why Chen Bingwen had come. Anyone capable of achieving such dazzling results in just seven days at Victoria Park’s Lunar New Year Fair could hardly be without plans for the future.

“Three hundred thousand.” Chen Bingwen got straight to the point and pushed the twenty-page business plan across the desk. “After repaying the eighty thousand I borrowed last time, I want to borrow another three hundred thousand!”

Zhou Mingzhe picked up the business plan but did not open it immediately. Instead, he rubbed the cover, his gaze settling on the striking line in the executive summary on the first page: “Victoria Park Lunar New Year Fair sales: HK$580,000.”

The office fell into a brief silence.

He remained silent for a full minute before raising his head, as though he were seeing Chen Bingwen for the first time and reassessing the neatly dressed young man with the calm eyes before him.

The composure with which Chen Bingwen seemed to see through everything nearly made one forget that he was only eighteen.

Zhou Mingzhe opened the plan. The locations of the mobile points, staffing arrangements, standardized dessert-stall design, plans for the new Kwun Tong factory, and the cost-saving coordination plan with Shunda Logistics... The data was detailed, the logic rigorous, and the feasibility analysis thorough.

The HK$580,000 in sales at Victoria Park provided indisputable backing for this ambitious expansion plan.

“Mr. Chen,” Zhou Mingzhe finally said, his voice carrying a note of admiration, “you’re taking a very large step here, and your ambitions are even larger.

“Do you know? I’ve worked in lending for more than a decade and seen countless business plans. Yours is the most professional, solid, and executable I’ve ever encountered.

“It’s even better than those submitted by many so-called overseas-educated elites.”

He paused, then changed tack. “But precisely because of that, I have to ask you one more question: are you ready? Or rather, is your team ready?

“Twenty mobile points, five shops, a new factory, and that logistics company... The gap between where you are and where you intend to be cannot be bridged simply by writing it down in a business plan.

“Your management span, cost control, supply-chain stability, and potential competitors—any one of these could cause the little ship you’ve just launched to run aground.

“Three hundred thousand is no small sum. Even taking into account the collateral value of the Cheung Sha Wan factory and the increase in assets brought by the Victoria Park fair’s profits, it still won’t fill that hole. The risk exposure remains substantial.”

“Manager Zhou, risk will always exist. But opportunities can disappear in the blink of an eye.”

Chen Bingwen met Zhou Mingzhe’s scrutinizing gaze without the slightest evasiveness. He knew this was the real test.

“The seven days of sales data from Victoria Park proved two things: Hong Kong people love sweet soups, and Chen’s Dessert Shop’s business model can make money.

“The brand is still riding high. This is the golden window for seizing the market. Once this wave passes, achieving the same scale will cost ten times as much.”

As he spoke, he lightly tapped the plan’s core chart and indicated it to Zhou Mingzhe. “Twenty mobile points in the industrial districts. With the mobile carts, insulated containers, and basic supplies, one thousand dollars is enough for each point.

“The five standard shops will be located in the prime commercial districts of Mong Kok, Yau Ma Tei, Causeway Bay, Central, and Tsim Sha Tsui. Monthly rent will be kept below three thousand dollars. With uniform decoration and each shop serving only as a sales outlet, the investment per shop can be kept below twenty thousand.”

He then turned to the financial projections. “Conservatively, each mobile point will sell one hundred and fifty bowls a day, while each standard shop will sell two hundred and fifty. At an average price of one dollar and fifty cents, after deducting ingredient, labor, and delivery costs, the daily net profit will exceed two thousand dollars.

“The expansion costs can be recovered within three months.

“The Cheung Sha Wan food factory and the central kitchen in Kwun Tong are the core of the system. They support the entire operation, and with the two facilities reinforcing each other, all of Kowloon and Hong Kong will be within our grasp.”

Zhou Mingzhe pondered, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the desktop.

According to Chen Bingwen’s calculations, the projected net profit of one hundred and eighty thousand dollars over three months was genuine—and those figures were probably highly conservative.

Zhou Mingzhe once again fell silent, his fingers continuing to tap unconsciously against the desk.

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At last, he slowly closed the business plan, drew a deep breath, and made his decision.

“All right! Mr. Chen, I trust your vision and your ability to execute!

“A three-hundred-thousand-dollar loan, under the terms we discussed: personal joint and several liability, an interest rate two percentage points above the standard rate, and an eighteen-month repayment period.

“Submit the detailed plans and budget for the new Kwun Tong factory within a week.

“The funds will arrive as early as the day after tomorrow!”

Zhou Mingzhe finally gave his approval and signed his name on the loan agreement. “Mr. Chen, don’t disappoint me.”

“Thank you, Manager Zhou!”

The enormous weight in Chen Bingwen’s heart finally lifted. He clasped Zhou Mingzhe’s hand firmly.

The ammunition was in place!

On the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, Chen’s Food Factory, which had been quiet for an entire day, was bustling once more.

The open ground outside the factory gates had become a temporary workshop for vehicle modifications.

Zhong Qiang led the employees as they busily worked around twenty pushcarts fitted with insulating layers.

Sparks flew from the welding torches, metal clanged, and the air was thick with the smell of paint and steel.

Chen Bingwen had assigned Gao Zhenhai to purchase secondhand light trucks from the used-vehicle market.

As for Chen Bingwen himself, he wore a baseball cap and moved through the crowded areas of Tsim Sha Tsui, Mong Kok, Causeway Bay, and Central like an ordinary student, repeatedly observing, recording, and comparing.

He carefully assessed and compared every potential site for a standard shop, striving to select the one offering the best value for money.

“Sir, how much is the monthly rent for this premises?” Outside a Mong Kok subway exit, Chen Bingwen pointed at a narrow shopfront measuring only two square meters and asked the property agent.

“Young man, you’ve got a good eye! This place is in a first-rate location. The rent is two thousand eight hundred a month, with two months’ deposit and one month paid in advance.”

The agent looked over Chen Bingwen’s plain clothes and answered readily.

Chen Bingwen quickly calculated the figures.

For five standard shops in the core commercial districts, the rent and deposits alone would come to nearly fifty thousand dollars.

Add another twenty-five thousand for light renovations—painting the walls, installing signs and light boxes, and setting up a few counters—at five thousand per shop.

Twenty modified food carts, even if purchased secondhand and retrofitted, would cost nearly one thousand dollars each on average, adding another twenty thousand.

The rent, deposit, and basic equipment for the Kwun Tong central kitchen would cost at least thirty thousand.

Another fifty thousand had to be reserved as startup capital for the Shunda Logistics fleet.

Then there were advance payments for ingredients, employee wages, and more...

The profits of more than one hundred and eighty thousand dollars from the Victoria Park fair were like sand in an hourglass, rapidly running out before his eyes.

The factory and the existing mobile points needed their daily cash flow to maintain normal operations and replenish ingredients. There was very little surplus that could be withdrawn in the short term.

Now he could only hope that once the three-hundred-thousand-dollar loan arrived, he would be able to board the fast train represented by Kowloon Wharf and quickly earn the capital needed for future expansion.

Three days later, Cheung Sha Wan Industrial District, the rear lane of Wah Fung Garment Factory.

A food cart with an entirely different appearance from before stood in its familiar corner.

The assortment of improvised tricycles was gone, replaced by standardized, detachable stainless-steel food carts.

The cart bodies were painted a striking red, with a large logo in gold lettering at the center: Chen’s Dessert Shop. The design was simple yet imposing.

An awning bearing the same logo rose above each cart, while a clearly marked menu hung along the side so customers could see exactly what they were paying for.

The workers, dressed in red aprons and white baseball caps, moved swiftly as they ladled out sweet soups and collected money.

The people waiting in line looked at this completely renewed Chen’s Dessert Shop. Their eyes held less of the casual disregard reserved for street vendors and more of the recognition accorded to an established brand.

“Brother Wen, the first batch of twenty standardized food carts has all arrived today!”

Gao Zhenhai reported to Chen Bingwen at the first opportunity, his voice brimming with excitement.

On the map, the twelve core industrial districts of Kowloon that he had marked out—Sham Shui Po, Cheung Sha Wan, Lai Chi Kok, To Kwa Wan, and others—were covered overnight by that vivid shade of Chen’s red.

“Good! Ah-Hai, you’ve done a fine job!”

Looking at the brand-new cart before him, Chen Bingwen felt a surge of accomplishment.

Chen’s Dessert Shop had taken its first solid step toward standardization and brand building.

“Is everyone fully trained? We can’t afford to be careless about hygiene and service standards!”

“Don’t worry! I’ve emphasized it repeatedly.” Gao Zhenhai thumped his chest as he gave his assurance.

According to Chen Bingwen’s plans, Chen’s Dessert Shop was now like a racing car shifting into top gear, every part of the operation accelerating at full speed.

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